


Denial is the Best Gift

by strixus



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Blasphemy, Bondage, Christmas, Dubious Consent, M/M, WTF Brain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-03
Updated: 2010-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strixus/pseuds/strixus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knubbler is frustrated after the Christmas Special goes horribly wrong, and his plans along with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial is the Best Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I... really don't know what the fuck this is. I was trying to sleep after watching the xmas special, and THIS sits its fat ass down in my head and WILL NOT let me sleep till I get it written.

What a disaster, Dick thought, looking around the set of the aborted mess of the Christmas special. At least nothing caught on fire, or was covered in blood, or - well yes, it could have been worse. It could have also, he though as he watched Murderface take a monstrous swig from a bottle of cheep corn wiskey as he sat next to him on the couch of the set, so much better.

The bruises from the priest trying to strangle him showed above his still buttoned dress shirt collar, and he looked as miserable as Knubbler felt. Noticing Knubbler looking at him, Murderface proffered the bottle silently. Dick took it, and took a swig. He could taste Muderface on the bottle still, a dark, bitter flavor under the sharp sweet alcohol. He bit his lip after the sip, savoring both flavors, and the warming feeling of what was not his first drink for the evening.

Tonight should have gone differently. He had made plans, hoping everything would go without any major hitches. Now, those plans, like the special, lay in ruins. He took another swallow, the alcohol swirling in his mind, his gaze lingering on the man next to him on the couch. The booze was helping, even through the swirl of other chemicals in his blood, to calm him. Or at least, to help him contain the frustration and annoyance which chewed at his brain like a worrying dog. Another swallow, this one even larger, and the taste of William still lingered on the bottle. He decided: everything else went to shit tonight, I might as well totally ruin the night.

He passed the bottle back, watching Murderface drink, a loose plan forming in his mind out of the ruins of his previous plans. He was going to get what he wanted out of tonight, one way or another, results be damned. Dick edged closer to Murderface, shortening the distance between them on the couch until he was nearly touching Murderface before the other noticed.

"Duude, whath the fuckth?"

"Ah, Murderface, can you give me a hand with something?" Keep him off balance, keep him confused. That would work. He all but jumped up off the couch, headed towards the open area in front of the set. The great wooden cross, having been righted again after its unfortunate landing on Murderface's grandmother and Toki, stood near the edge of the set. Yes, this would work. It had to.

Murderface followed obediently, the bottle of liquor gripped loosely in one hand. Amazing how well he cleaned up, thought Knubbler, he even looks nearly human in that suit and tie. Chewing on his lower lip, Knubbler fought a rising excitement. Got to be careful.

"Go stand over there, I want to see something." He tried to keep the command in his voice as he gestured over to a spot roughly in front of the cross, knowing that the tone worked well on Muderface. He could feel the color of his eyes shifting with the emotion; not anger, but excitement, tinged his thoughts. William mumbled but complied. Now.

Knubbler closed the distance between them, relying on Murderface's own repulsion at having his personal space intruded upon to drive him backwards. One step, two steps, a stumbling step as the back of William's boots hit the heavy base of the cross, his back pressing against it. One more step, and Dick was nearly touching Murderface, pressing his own body nearly against Murderface, forcing him back. His face was inches from Williams, looking down as Murderface instinctively slouched under his gaze.

"Whath the fucth! Geth away frothm me!" Murderface spluttered, but Knubler ignored the slight spatter of spit that landed on his face, pressing closer until he placed his hands against William's chest and pressed backwards, pinning him off balance against the heavy wood of the cross.

"You really screwed this up, William. You really did." He kept his tone level, serious, fighting down the urge to push forward even faster. "Don't you think you should try to make it up to me? I worked -" he paused, "so hard to get this special to work, and after all of it, you still fucked it up!" He felt the color of his eyes shift, the red of anger and emotion swelling in brightness as the lights dilated.

"Buth I didn't! Ith wasth my fault!" He protested, shifting and squirming under the touch. Then he sagged, his own faulty internal logic buying Knubbler's manipulative words. "Fukths." Oh yes.

"William?" The tone was stern, demanding, questioning.

"I didn'th mean to," down turned green eyes seeking something unseen. "It justh ..."

That was all he could wait for. Knubbler pressed in pushing his lips against the bassist's thick, chapped lips, feeling their rough surfaces twitch, the brush of course mustache harsh against his upper lip. Shock stiffened Murderface's body, and the bottle of booze fell from his hand, crashing to the floor and spilling. When movement returned he squirmed, trying to escape from Knubbler. Dick would not let him escape, not now. He pushed roughly through Murderface's lips with his tongue, tasting the same earthy bitter flavor that had lingered on the bottle of booze. Dick felt the warmth of growing arousal seep over the warmth of booze and the tingle of the last of his earlier high in his guts. That taste, he'd never get enough of it, harsh and with the tint of spoiled meat caught behind teeth the night before.

But Murderface finally found strength, and pushed back against Knubbler's shoulders, struggling enough to separate them. "Geth offs me! Faggoth! I'm noth gay!"

Oh yes, this was going just as planned. Knubbler grinned, a wicked smile complemented by the red glow the pinpoint lights of his eyes. "But I am." He watched the bassist's face as his mind struggled through that, feeling the tension in the stubby fingers as they dug into his shoulders. "That means, if I do something, its not you being gay. Its me. Right?"

Confusion oozed over William's face, then recollection and remembrance. "Hey! How'd you know abouth thath?"

Knubbler grinned wider, feeling like a shark at a whale corpse. "You were a bit vocal about it."

"Oh."

"Will you make it up to me, William? This whole mess of yours?" He pressed closer, feeling the resistance of the arms giving way, pushing Murderface back against the wood, his own hands reaching for the bow tie at the bassist's throat.

A blush oozed across the ruddy, pockmarked skin of his face, and his eyes refused to meet Knubbler's electronic stare. "Noth gay," he mumbled, followed by a half hearted "faggoth," which Knubbler cut off as he sought out another kiss.

The kissing was a distraction, really. In trying to both not enjoy it, and being drawn in by the forceful teasing of Knubbler's lips, Murderface wasn't playing much attention to anything else Dick was doing. Thus, he failed to notice what Dick was acutally up to, as his hands worked first to untie the bowtie, then to encircle Murderface's wrists in a hand, forcing them up, over his head, slowly, pushing back against the solid wood of the cross. His other hand, first running across the coarse fabric of the dress shirt he had forced Murderface into, then drifiting down to undo his own belt, sliding it free of the loops of his pants without a sound.

Knubbler moved like a striking snake then, pressing harder into a hungry kiss, finally getting his tongue deep enough into Murderface's mouth to taste the slight fuzz on his teeth, his hand holding the belt coming up and lashing it around the thick wood of the cross and Murderface's wrists in a single motion. William jerked, shocked by the sudden restraint, nearly biting Dick's tongue as he grunted and squeaked his surprise.

Knubbler pulled away from the kiss, his grin ever more shark-like, the digital pupils of his eyes slightly fuzzy around the edges with lust. "There, now you can't even say you had a choice." Murderface started to splutter something, but Dick silenced him, leaning in and whispering into an ear as he nicked the fatty cartilage with his teeth, "This faggot's going to have his way with you, and there's nothing you can do, William." He pressed his hips against Murderface's leg, grinding slightly, letting him feel the growing hard-on he was nursing. Murderface squeaked, and Dick shivered.

He stepped back slightly, looking up and down the restrained form in front of him as he slipped out of his suit coat, removed his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt sleeves to roll them up. Murderface could easily undo the belt holding his wrists, could easily escape from this. That he didn't, despite the front of stubborn, sulking unwillingness, told Knubbler everything he wanted to hear. It would have to be like this, he knew. But he was alright with that.

Dick reached forward, slowly unbuttoning the dress shirt, pushing aside the suit coat lapels and white shirt, untucking it from the pants, revealing the stained and battered undershirt beneath, stretched to cover the protruding belly and sagging pectorals. His fingers strayed over the dingy fabric, finding its lower edge and sliding beneath, pushing it up into a bunch to reveal the sallow tattooed flesh and coarse hair. His fingers brushed through the rough brown hairs, teasing and curling in them, and the expression on William's face went from blank rejection to a struggle not to show enjoyment.

Knubbler felt his excitement, realizing his hands were slightly shaking as he first brushed then tweaked one of the dark nipples, making Murderface squeak again. This was going better than he had hoped, but if he didn't take it slowly he might cream his pants like a teenager. Hell, he hadn't done that even when he was a teenager! But fuck he had been wanting this for too long. He curled his long fingers in the dark hairs coating the tattooed pot belly, then dug them into the fat, feeling the heat of William's flesh. He wanted this, but he had to be careful.

He nuzzled a pale earlobe, feeling the fuzz of Murderface's hair tickle his face and neck, letting his hands roam over his chest without thought. Time for his next move. "I know what you're thinking about, William. All those big breasted women, all the women the other boys get, all the women you want but can't seem to get. Even the ugly ones, the ones you can get, who are never happy with you." He could hear the swallow and feel the hesitant nod, words seeming to be beyond Murderface at the moment. "None of them want you, William. All those women, and none of them want you. Not the way one nasty, sick little faggot wants you." He ground his hips against William's, punctuating his point, and feeling, to his pleasure, an answering hardness. He heard Murderface lick his lips, his tongue clicking in the gab between his teeth.

Knubbler let his hands roam lower, fingers teasing at the pants line, touching the front of the dress pants lightly, teasingly. "You can't even think straight with me here, can you? You're helpless to just a pansy like me, who wants to do what ever sick gay things to you I can imagine. And you're -" he bit down on the fat thick earlobe, sucking and biting, illiciting a grunting whimper from Murderface in protest, "-you're going to let me." His fingers trembled, the excitement making him clumsy, but the teasing turned to the removal of the buckle of the pants, then the pop of a button and the slide, ever so slowly, of a fly down.

Knubbler let the trousers fall, stepping back and looking over his work. Murderface, shirt and suit coat disheveled and pushed open to show his flabby belly and chest, pants around his ankles and without even a nod to underwear beneath to hide his half erect cock, tried to look anywhere but at Knubbler, a blush trailing from forehead to chest, blending with the flush of arousal. Giving up, the bassist squeezed his eyes shut, mumbling a litany of denials and blasphemies. The sight was everything he had wanted it to be. Now, for what else he wanted. Well, at least one of the many things he wanted.

He pressed close again, biting at Murderface's ears then lips, tangling the fingers of a hand in the unkept straggle of coarse brown pubic hair, twining them around to cup first balls then shaft, a slow, soothing motion of hand over flesh, like petting a nervous animal that twitched under his hand. Murderface whimpered, a whine that covered more denials, more mumblings about thinking about women and breasts. Knubbler bit his lower lip hard, the green pupils of his eyes contracting to nearly invisible points in their black screens. He let his knees relax, and slowly, slid down onto them, his face now just under eye level with Murderface's crotch.

He could hear Murderface's breath hitch, hear him whimper and shift, and he looked up to find William looking up, away from him, his eyes tightly closed and lips moving rapidly around silent words. Knubbler hesitated, watching, and saw the eyes open slightly peaking down, as if expecting something. He grinned. His hands roamed, stroking and touching, as his eyes wandered. He'd seen it before, of course, who in the civilized world hadn't seen Murderface's cock? But here, up close, and aroused, it was a different sort of creature. There, it was gnarled and heavy, club-like and thick. Here, twisting free of a foreskin that seemed just slightly too tight, curving up in an almost artful bend both up and to the right, its thick length was fascinating.

There was only a moment of this, however. Dick wasn't about to let this prize escape, or change its uncooperative mind, or anything else to go wrong. He leaned forward and, with no warning, slid the entire length into his mouth, burring his face in the frizz of fur. Murderface made a sound halfway between a sob and a howl, trailing off into whimpers and squeaks as Knubbler began to move his tongue, sliding it along the under curve as he let his mouth adjust to the thickness. It certainly wasn't the longest cock he'd sucked -he'd been producing since the 70's for fucks sake - but it was the most spatially interesting.

He drew back, trailing lips and tongue over the shaft, feeling it twitch against his jaw. He could feel the callouses, stretched along the bottom, and teased each with the tip of his tongue, nipping at the slightly uneven head with his teeth. Murderface shivered, and Dick let his hands trail across to cup the contracting balls, encircling their base with his fingers, tugging gently at them, drawing forth a grunt from above. His tongue flicked and darted, tracing different patterns as he slid back over the curved length, dragging the head along the sharp points of molars before swallowing, tilting his head to get the angle right, allowing the head to slide against the back of his throat. The series of groans and whimpers from above, rising to a near whining keen at times, made his own cock twitch.

Fortunately, it didn't seem that Murderface would last very long under this attention. Dick could feel the balls tightening in his hand, feel the steady ooze of precum growing thicker in his throat as he sucked and licked. He pulled back dropping the cock from his mouth into his hands, stroking and teasing the tip with his lips, letting the bassist buck in his hands until a gut wrenched groaning cry foretold the first hot ooze of cum. Knubbler leaned forward, nose brushing the tip, letting the sticky, thick fluid strike his face and hair, even the lenses of his eyes, tongue extending to catch and swallow the last dribbling spurts, sucking lightly at the head, reducing Murderface to panting whimpers before he stopped.

He rose then, slowly to make sure his knees still worked, aware of the image that would fill Murderface's vision. A gasp, a bleary groan, and a mumbled something that sounded like "Ew, groth, faggoth," before Murderface tried to turn away. But his eyes wandered back, traveling over Dick's face, jaw hanging slightly open.

"Look what I made you do." The tone was teasing, accusing. He raised a finger, wiping one of the sticky white strings of fluid from his cheek, holding it out in front of both their eyes. "Such a filthy, nasty faggot, aren't I?" He grinned, then licked the cum from his finger. He could see William's eyes following, going slightly wide, the blush spreading visible even through the flush of exertion. "Right, on my face, my hair..." he leaned forward, less than an inch from Murderface's nose, letting him smell his cum. Oh, this was defiantly getting his attention.

Without moving back much at all, he pulled a small handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped the majority of the cum from his face, careful not to scratch his lenses or gum them up too much, but leaving the few spatters in his hair. Murdrface watched, rapt. He folded the cloth and dropped it to the floor, then leaned forward, kissing Murderface deeply as he reached up to undo the belt holding his arms. Murderface without hesitation kissed back, tongue darting into Dick's mouth, tasting himself there. Dick pulled back, smiling.

"We're not done, you know."

"I'm noth gay!"


End file.
